


The Third Person

by Ziracona



Category: Heavy Rain
Genre: (for you Lauren), Babysitting, Family, Friendship, Game End Spoilers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Spoilers, Minor Violence, Pros: includes a flashback where Blake is hit in the face, Psychological Trauma, Strong Language, no adult content/warnings except psychological trauma and, particularly for the Four Heroes ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-08-12 08:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7927561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ziracona/pseuds/Ziracona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after the Origami Killer was caught, Ethan, Madison, and Shaun have a happy new life.  An idea of Madison's leads to the new family being reunited with the final member of the group that rescued Shaun Mars. However, things have changed for Norman over the past year as well, but in a very different way.  He's lost something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome Norman

“Ethan,” Madison Paige sighed and let her chin rest in her hand.  She sat on a bar stool by a kitchen island in the apartment she now called home.  Ethan Mars.  She loved him more than words on a page could express, and she should know—describing things was her job.  And she’d found ways to express all of them, over the years, except two.  For so long there had been only one, but now there were two she could never quite capture.  The horror of war, and the love she felt for her new family.  Ethan and Shaun.  It had only been one year since the Origami Killings that had destroyed the lives of so many, had come to an end.  And in this ending, Madison had been given a new life.  Something she could never have imagined.  Sleepless nights, haunted by memories of war—death flying through the air like an avenging angel, unstoppable, unseeable, but so real you could feel when it flew past and its shadow fell over you for a moment.  Death so close you could feel sand draining from your hourglass—one step closer to an abyss, too dark to look into.  Nothing could have prepared her for being a war correspondent.  And she had thought nothing could ever put her back together again, but it had.  Ethan, love, a family, a home.  Shaun.  Happiness is unlike anything else in this world.  It’s fragile, and you can’t force it to come or go.  It’s like the opposite of that angel of death—a little beam of light unexpectedly streaming in a window, coming and going with clouds and day or night, but instantly and utterly changing when it touches you.

She could dream again.

Her husband was looking at her with his big, sad eyes.  She almost wanted to laugh.  He looked like he had when they first met.  And to think, he was in pain over something as silly as this.  “Ethan, you don’t have to feel bad about this.  I understand completely.”

It seemed to hurt him more that she was taking it so well.  “But, Madison, I know it’s not fair at all.” He turned and made an agitated, sweeping gesture with his arm.  “I mean, it’s our first anniversary together, and I want to do something special for you, but…”

“Ethan, it’s okay for us to stay here for our anniversary.  I don’t mind.”  Ethan had placed his hands on the kitchen island and hung his head when he finished speaking, and he was still standing like that. Madison sympathetically moved and put a hand over one of his.

“But it’s not just that.”  Ethan looked so sad, and something else. A little…resigned?  He turned his head to meet her gaze.  “I know it’s only been a year, and so it makes sense for me not to feel comfortable leaving Shaun with anyone else, but.  I don’t think it’s ever going to change.  After what happened…”  He looked away, disappointed in himself for failing her.  “I—I don’t even feel comfortable on the weekends he visits Grace!  That’s why I go with him so much, and when I don’t I drive by, to make sure.  You know I call and check in—too much—and I can never sleep.  Madison…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust anyone else with watching him.”

Madison blinked in surprise.  Ever?  She looked at his face.  Feeling so guilty for his need to protect his son.  She put a consoling hand on her husband’s shoulder.  “Ethan, it’s okay.  I know what happened—I understand.  It's natural for you to worry. I’m sure, with time—“

He shook his head.  “I don’t think so.”

She hesitated and tried again. “Well, even if you don’t, we’ll figure something out.”  It wasn’t like she didn’t want it—the occasional night out, with just him.  Of course she did, but how selfish would it make her to blame him for loving Shaun so much?  This fear was something he couldn’t control.  The mind does what it wants—she should know.

Ethan just looked down again, so they stayed there in silence, her hand still on his, each mulling over the implications of Ethan's words. 

“I didn’t realize it worried you that much when he went to see Grace.”  Madison tried to smile at Ethan—cheer him up.  He just shook his head in response.  Madison looked at the countertop.  “No one on earth you’d ever feel comfortable with?”

“I would trust you.”  Ethan smiled a sad smile at her.  The most progress she’d had since the conversation started.  “But there’s no one else I could depend on to keep Shaun safe.”

Madison’s eyes suddenly widened as it struck her.  “No one?”

Ethan looked at her expression in surprise.  “Madison?  What is it?”

 

-

 

Norman Jayden shifted uncertainly from foot to foot.  It was hard to keep a handle on everything.  Right now?  He just needed some time—to get his head straight.  That’s what he’d been telling himself for months, though, and he was all out of time.

A few weeks after the closing of the Origami case, it had started.  Something had gone wrong in his head.  ARI, he couldn’t shut it off.  He had set down his glasses, and those tanks had come crawling up the table.  He’d _seen_ them, real as his hand or the desk in front of him.  And he hadn’t been able to shut it off. 

The FBI had sent him to a specialist.  Officially, he was on “sick leave.”  The specialist he’d gone to see hadn’t known what to do.  “The ARI is a very new technology.”  In other words, ‘you were the guinea pig.  We know the side effects now, but we sure as hell don’t have a cure.’  The FBI had assured him it would be temporary—a few weeks away, lots of rest, stay hydrated, stress free, and it’ll all go away.  Like a goddamn nap and a bottle of water could fix a mind that had started to develop cracks in it. 

Days had turned into weeks, weeks to months.  He had been able to tell, when the FBI had given up on him.  They never said so, no, but the phone calls changed.  They knew the answer to their questions about progress before a word was out of his mouth, and he could hear it.  They weren’t wasting any money on trying to patch him up either.  They didn’t know where to start.  So he’d sat, alone, in a dark studio apartment in New York, with the blinds shut and the drapes closed, while his mind let images and things that weren’t real seep in through the cracks he’d made saving the life of Shaun Mars. 

Saving the life of Shaun Mars. 

He wasn’t angry.  Not when he remembered that.  He was angry he hadn’t been warned or advised properly, sure, he was angry his life was over, but…

It was a good trade—his mind, for the kid’s life.

More than fair.

So he’d sat alone in that apartment and waited for something to happen.  Not angry.  Just. ...Scared.  And alone.

And then, one day, something had happened.  Someone from the FBI had called and told him that a Madison Paige wanted to talk to him, and did he want her to be given his number.  He hadn’t had a reason to say no.

Of all the…

She’d called him, and asked him if he would like to come and visit her and Ethan Mars, and Shaun.  He hadn’t really known if— He hadn’t been around…people.  Not in months.  Not since he’d broken down.  He had sort of thought he wasn’t supposed to.  The FBI had sort of thought he wasn’t supposed to.

But.  He had said yes anyway.  He hadn’t meant to. 

And now here he was.  Back in that god damn city, with its god damn endless rain.  And he still hadn’t remembered to bring an umbrella.  He was wearing sunglasses again, too.  Not ARI, of course.  He had just thought, when he was heading out the door and had seen his face in the hotel’s mirror, that his eyes might scare the kid.  They hadn’t seen real rest in a long time.  They'd almost looked dead to him.

The trip from New York had been a nightmare.  He’d taken a bus.  He’d had the sense to realize flying, like he was now, would be a huge mistake.  Being out of that apartment for the first time in months, it was sensory overload.  Even in this perpetually grey town there were colors he’d sort of started to forget about.  He tried hard to focus on the colors, instead of the imaginary storm blowing around him, sending bits of wood and leaves past.  He tried not to flinch as an unreal piece of ARI debris collided with his head.  Norman closed his eyes and took a breath.

He rang the doorbell.

_I shouldn’t have come, what the hell was I thinking?_

He turned to go, but Ethan Mars opened the door.  Norman stopped.  He hadn’t seen Ethan since he’d left, shortly after the case had been closed.  But they’d talked a few times, the night it had ended, and after.  Still, he was surprised by how genuinely happy Ethan looked to see him.

“Agent Jayden!”  Ethan opened the door all the way, making plenty of space for Norman to join him inside.  When Norman hesitated, Ethan stepped out into the rain and shook his hand.  “It’s good to see you again.”

“Yea,” Norman remembered to smile back “you too.”  He stepped into the house, following Ethan.  “How’s the kid?”

Shaun answered the question himself.  He had heard the door open and come scurrying out from the kitchen.  “Hey!”  The kid came at a run, waving at Norman, but about six feet off suddenly got bashful and hid behind Ethan.

“Hey, kid.”  Norman knelt down to the boy’s level.  “You got taller.”

Shaun grinned from behind his father's leg and nodded.  “I like your spy glasses.”

Norman put a finger to the familiar feeling sunglasses he wore.  “These?”

Shaun nodded again, then took off, back towards the kitchen.  “Come on!  Mom made dinner.  It’s a really good one.”  He added the last part in a confidential tone, as if spilling a secret.  Then he was off again, much of his initial confidence restored.

Norman stood back up as he watched the kid disappear into the house.  “Looks like he’s doing good.” 

Ethan looked proud.   “He is.  Good as gold.”  The two watched him vanish behind the kitchen island.  Madison waved from across the room and started towards them.

“Jayden, it’s so good to see you again.”  Madison took his hand.  This was so fundamentally different from the way the last year had been for Norman.  Two—no, three—three people.  Sincerely happy to see him. 

He shook her hand.  “It’s nice to be able to check in.  He really bounced back.” 

“Yea, he did.”  Madison smiled at Shaun, who was moving a water pitcher carefully over to the dining table.  He was on good behavior.  She knew he wanted to impress Jayden.  To Shaun, he was practically a super hero.  She still remembered that night clearly.

Herself and Ethan and Shaun, walking out, hands up, together.  That asshole of man, Blake, had arrested Ethan the second they were in reach.  Shaun, still in shock, had been ripped out of Ethan’s arms.  Blake had slammed Ethan against a car and put cuffs on him while she and Shaun had both been shouting at him to stop—that he had the wrong man.  Well, Shaun had been weakly protesting.  She’d been doing the shouting.  She’d kicked Blake, and two officers had had to hold her back.  The whole thing was a mess, and Blake wouldn’t listen to a word she said.  Shoving Ethan around—hurting him.  She remembered Ethan meeting her eyes and smiling.  He didn’t care what was happening to himself at all—his son was safe.  And that had made her cry—out of love, or sympathy, or anger at Blake, she didn’t know.  She’d punched an officer in the face, and kneed another officer in the groin before she’d been successfully restrained.  She hadn’t been able to hear Ethan, but she could read his lips well enough to know he was telling her it was all okay.  But it hadn’t been!  The injustice of it all—and poor Shaun, held by some policeman he didn’t know—when a man in a policeman’s uniform had been his kidnapper.  Watching his dad shoved around, and thrown into a squad car, and shouted at?  She’d argued adamantly with Blake, who wouldn’t take “he was saving his son!” as an acceptable answer to “If he’s not the killer, why would Mars even be here?”   She’d told him the killer was Scott Shelby, and she had proof, but he’d told her she was “fucking crazy” and Scott was “an old friend and a damn good cop.”  And then, Norman Jayden had come—limping out of the warehouse, looking like hell.  He’d been exhausted, and probably suffering from at least mild trauma, but when he’d seen the huge cluster of cop cars his expression had changed and his slow limp had turned into an angry, determined speed walk.

 Blake had seen him after she did, when he was close. “Jayden, so this is where you were.  What part of ‘you’re off the case’ did you not—“  Norman took one look at Ethan, locked in the back of a Police car, grabbed Blake by the collar, and slammed him in the face.  Madison had never seen someone win with a head-butt before, but Blake went staggering back, and Norman didn’t look like it had even hurt him. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!  This man has been through hell over the past week because of you, and he finally manages to save his kid,” Norman was gesturing wildly, shouting at Blake, who wasn’t back up yet.  “and you rip his goddamn kid out of his arms and arrest him!”  He kicked Blake.  He’d apparently had about enough for one day.

Blake pulled his gun out, and all of a sudden all the officers nearby were very focused and tense and quiet.  The ones holding Madison had let go, ready to go for their own weapons, if need be.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?  What the fuck’s wrong with you!”  Blake pulled himself back up.  “Ethan Mars is the origami killer!” 

Norman didn’t back down.  “Blake, put down the goddamn gun!  Ethan Mars is not the origami killer, Scott Shelby is,” Blake started to talk but Norman cut him off “—I know, because I just saw him try to kill Mars, and bash my fucking head in, and ten minutes ago he fell to his death and got chopped up by a goddamn waste grinder!”  He pulled his shirt off one of his shoulders, revealing a huge bruise.  “Do you still think I’m making this up!  I fucking called it in!”

He certainly had looked like he’d been in a fight to the death.

An officer spoke up hesitantly from behind Blake.  “Sir, we did get on the radio that he called it in.”

“He can’t be right!” Blake snapped.

“Blake, give me the goddamn keys!”  Norman held out his hand.

“You can’t be right.”  Blake was seething now.

Norman’s anger matched Blake’s.  “Give me the keys, or you better goddamn shoot me!”  

Madison thought for a moment that Blake was going to shoot him, too.  She was sure he would have, but the officers around him were tense.  And they could all feel it.  The loyalty in the group was shifting to Jayden. 

Blake wasn’t willing to move, so Norman had wrenched the car and handcuff keys out of Blake’s coat pocket on his own.  Stepping close to get the keys, for a second the gun was against his chest and Madison had closed her eyes, because she thought Blake would pull the trigger.

The gun lowered, and Blake stood in smoldering silence as Norman wrenched open the car door and helped Ethan out.  Madison hadn’t been watching Ethan’s face at all during the confrontation, but she did then, and he looked a little in shock himself.  Despite the rain, the group was so silent they all heard the click when Norman unlocked the handcuffs.

Ethan rubbed his wrists and stared at Norman.  This was the second time the FBI agent had broken him out of police custody.  And he’d saved his life less than half an hour ago.  Fought a killer.  He looked pretty all in, at that.

“Mars, sorry about your treatment at the hand of the **local police**.”  Jayden’s shoulder rammed into Blake as he helped Ethan back over towards Madison and his son.  He stopped when they reached the kid, and Ethan took Shaun back into his arms.  His son had buried his face in Ethan’s jacket. 

Norman’s voice grew calmer.  “Thank you, for saving your son.”

Ethan remembered Norman’s words to him, when he’d let him go the first time.  _“If you want to thank me, save your son.”_

“Thank you.”  Ethan hadn’t known what else to say.  He’d been stunned.

Norman put a hand on his shoulder, and turned to Madison.  “You are…?”

“Madison Paige.  The journalist who phoned you?”  She moved to Ethan’s side, wrapping her arms around one of his.

Norman had nodded.  “Right, of course.  Thanks for the tip.”

“It looks like you had already figured it out on your own.  Unlike some people.”  She would have assaulted Blake personally, then and there, if Ethan and Shaun hadn't been with her.

Norman had turned to one of the officers then.  “Hey, you, quit standing around.  We need to get this kid to a hospital.  Actually, him and Mars.  And--” He looked at Madison questioningly.

“I’m okay.” A little smoke inhalation, but okay.

He looked back at the officer.  “Got it?”  The officer had nodded and hurried off to get medical personnel.  Norman turned back to the little group of fellow survivors.  “Come on, let’s get you out of this go—“ he’d noticed Shaun and changed it to just “—rain.”  Though, it was a little late for censorship.  “You doing okay, kid?”

 Shaun had nodded at him.

\------------

Since that night, Shaun had talked about “Special Agent Jayden” pretty often.  He’d loved the stories Ethan had eventually shared, about Jayden punching Blake in the face and sneaking him out of the Police Station when he’d been arrested, and how, when the killer had drawn a gun and gone to shoot Ethan in the back, Jayden had come out of nowhere and body-slammed the killer to save him.

Shaun had been so excited he was coming for a visit.

Now, as they sat around the dinner table, she could see it easily on his face.  Shaun had asked her to let him sit next to Norman, and he’d gotten his wish.  Now Shaun kept swinging between shy and bubbly. 

Norman looked surprisingly like he had that night he’d head-butted Blake for the good of mankind.  Which was not a good thing.  He looked tired—worn.  And sunglasses indoors and at night?  When she’d called, the woman at the FBI had told her Jayden was on sick leave, and had been for several months, but had been “unable” to elaborate.  So she'd kept digging and learned from a friend in New York that he’d been living alone in some apartment since not too long after the Origami Killer case had been closed.  Why?  What exactly was wrong with him, that would keep him on sick leave for months, but leave him free to travel?  He didn’t seem ill.  He didn’t seem to have trouble walking, or any other visible injuries. So then?

 He saw her looking and she hurriedly looked away.                                          

 


	2. Smoking Mirror

They had a nice dinner.  Norman asked about life, and Shaun told him about how he’d gotten an unwanted celebrity-like status at school for a little while, but now things were getting better, and he was going to be on the softball team.  Madison talked about a book she was writing, and Ethan explained plans he had for a new house design.  Norman was vague about the past year.  Questions sort of slid past him and ended up redirected.  Instead of talking about recent work, he told Shaun a story about one of the first cases he ever worked instead. Breaking up a “kidnapping ring,” which, Madison was quite certain, was the watered down for Shaun version of the story.  He managed to make it funny and exciting at the same time, and Shaun loved it. 

He hadn’t looked too good when he came in, but he actually started smiling a few times during dinner—started looking more alive.  After dinner, Shaun had run off to do homework, and the adults had sat down to chat in the living room.

 

 

Norman had enjoyed the evening.  He had known coming was a mistake—it probably still was—but it had been nice to see the kid again. And Mars, and Paige.  They were all happy.  He really had made a difference.

It was weird, sitting in Mars’ living room.  He didn’t really know them, but you could hardly call someone who’d been through something like that case with you a stranger.  He tried to focus on what was being said, and not think about the scenery that kept building and deconstructing itself around the room.  It was so hard not to look at it.  He was sure his hosts thought it was strange he had them on, but he was still really thankful for the sunglasses.

“So, any big cases recently?”

Mars. 

Mars had said that. 

Norman stopped looking at the chunk of forest the ARI in his head was causing to grow out of the wall behind Ethan, and focused on Ethan.  “No, not really.”

“Are you very busy, then?”

Paige this time.  Busy?  An empty studio apartment.  Stacks of unread books.  A phone that never rang.  Closed drapes.

“No, it’s been surprisingly quiet.”  Quiet?  Deafening.

“When Madison contacted the FBI, they said you were on sick leave.”  Mars looked concerned.  “Are you doing alright?”

Not really.  “Yeah, it’s just some temporary stuff.  It’ll blow over soon.”  He could feel a nonexistent wind starting to blow through the room, dragging waves of sandy dust with it.

“You’ve been staying in New York by yourself?”  Paige asked.

“Yeah.”

“Sounds lonely.”  Paige opened a bottle of wine and started to pour drinks. 

Norman took the cup she handed him carefully.  “It’s uneventful.  How about here?  Did things wrap up okay?”  He knew already—he’d checked in to make sure, back when it all happened a year ago, but he wanted to change the subject. 

“Yeah, it’s been great.”  Mars looked like it really had been.  He’d never seen the man smile until the night he got his son back, and but since that night Ethan had hardly stopped.

“It’s still joint-custody, but Shaun spends most of his time here.”  Paige was smiling too.  “Lieutenant Blake has been on ‘leave’ for over a year now—I’m still pushing for a resignation.  Thanks to your reports, the chief, the whole department, are still undergoing a thorough investigation.”

“And we’re all alive.”  Mars picked up his drink.

“How long will you be on medical leave?” Paige asked, bringing the subject back to this again. 

“Don’t know.  Until I’m cleared for active duty.”  Not very open, but an honest answer.

 

He went back to the hotel not too long after.  Didn't want to push his luck, and the slow building intensity of the ARI storm beating in on the house had become too much pressure to bear.

The second he’d walked out of the house the ARI hallucinations had gotten worse.  He’d taken a cab to the hotel.  Getting to his room had been an ordeal--he'd barely been able to see.  He knew in his head that the sandstorm wasn't real, but once he reached the safety of his room he couldn't force himself to stop trying to cough up sand he hadn't really inhaled for a good ten minutes.

When his head had finally calmed down he sat on the bed, head resting in his hands, blinds drawn, drapes shut.  Dark and silent, and alone.

He’d drifted off at some point, but he was still sitting on the edge of the bed when he thought he woke, so maybe he’d never been asleep at all.  It was the phone that brought him back to the present.  Paige had called.  For some reason, it didn’t wake him until the phone let out the beep which marked the end of a recording.  He’d had to play it back.  Then he’d played it again, to make sure.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

“What did you think?”  Madison was curled up on a chair in the living room, watching Ethan finish putting up the wine.

“Did he look sick to you?”  Ethan asked, glancing at her before returning to the cabinet he had opened. 

“Yeah, he did.”  Madison tucked her knees up to her chin.  “But he acted like he was alright.”

Ethan closed the cabinet, his face thoughtful.  “No, I don’t think he is.  He…he reminded me of how I looked before you. And before I got Shaun back.”

“Really?” Madison watched Ethan’s concentrated expression.

Ethan walked over to Madison and sat down on the chair next to her.  “Yeah.  And back then, I...I think we should do something.” 

Madison brought her chin up from her knees and turned towards Ethan.  “Like what?”

“I’m not sure…”  He looked away, then back at her.  Those sad eyes she loved, full of concern.  “But god knows we owe him.”  Ethan ran a hand through his hair.  “I wish we knew what he needed.”

Madison stood up.  “I’m going to find out.”

“How?”  Ethan watched in surprise as she hurried over to her desk and started typing away at her laptop.

Madison turned in the chair to grin at him.  “I have my ways.  You know, investigative journalists make very intrusive and knowledgeable friends.”

“Maybe we should just ask him—I don’t want to just…”  He couldn’t think of the right word.  “You know—without permission.  There are things I wouldn't have wanted people to know.” His experience at Lexington Station flickered through his memory.  Even though so much had changed since then, he felt his pulse quicken at the thought.  He dug his nails into the chair arm.

“Do you think he would tell us?”  Madison asked, glancing away from the computer screen to look at him.

Ethan considered for a second as his fingertips absently felt the little tears his nails had just left in the chair.  “No.”

Madison turned back to her computer.

For the next several hours, Ethan absently worked on design sketches while Madison dug for information.  Ethan didn’t notice Shaun had come downstairs until he climbed into his lap.

“Hey kiddo.”  He pushed aside his work and wrapped his arms around Shaun.  Nothing would ever feel better than being able to hold his son again.

“Dad, when can we see Agent Jayden again?”  Shaun swung his feet and tilted his head back to look up into his father’s face. 

“I don’t know, son.  But soon, I hope.” 

Shaun was happy with this answer.  “I had a lot of fun tonight.  I think I should be in the FBI too.”  He slid past the hug and hopped back down off his father’s lap.

“I don’t know Shaun, it can be a dangerous job.”  Ethan watched as Shaun pretended his fingers were a gun and drew on an invisible enemy.

“I know, dad.  But you can save people from badguys.”  Shaun pretended to pull the trigger, and turned to grin at his dad.

“Well, you’ve certainly got plenty of time to think about it.”  Ethan leaned on one of the chair arms and watched Shaun.  “I thought you wanted to make video games.”

“Oh yeah,” Shaun hesitated, finger-gun still drawn.  “I’ll do both,” he decided quickly, grinning up at his dad.  “Or make video games about the FBI agents.  That could be good!  Maybe based on real stories like Agent Jayden!”  Shaun ran around the coffee table, lost in his imagination.

“Sounds like some pretty exciting video games.”  Ethan stood up and walked over, patting his son on the head.  “But, I think someone here should be in bed.”

“Awww, but dad.  Just a little longer?”  Shaun’s eyes grew big and imploring.

“Now, now, Shaun—that’s hardly fair.  It’s already well past your bedtime.  Come on.”  He swept Shaun up in his arms and spun him around, then carried his laughing son towards his room.  “Say goodnight to your mother.” 

Shaun waved at Madison from under Ethan's arm.  “Good night!”

Madison turned from her research and smiled at Shaun.  “Goodnight, Shaun.”

 

When Ethan came back from putting Shaun to bed, a little later, Madison was staring at her computer screen in frustration.

“No luck?” he asked, walking over and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Not really.”  Madison sighed.  “All I could get out of them is that it’s something ‘psychological.’  They really won’t budge on giving out information.”

“Well,” Ethan patted the shoulder, “it is the FBI.  They probably have a lot of experience keeping secrets.”  Ethan pulled over a chair and sat down.  “You said psychological?”

“Yeah,” Madison turned her chair to face him, leaning back in it with a sigh.  “All I know is, it happened something like a month and a half after the Origami Killer case was solved, and pretty immediately after, he went to six different hospitals and clinics over the span of two months, then moved up to a flat in New York, and he’s been shut up in it ever since.”

“Shut up in it?” Ethan asked, tilting his head.

“Yeah, uh,” Madison looked at the computer screen for confirmation, clicking back to the email she was looking for.  “Robbie, my friend, he looked into it.  Lives in New York--well, as much as someone who travels that much lives anywhere.  Said he couldn’t find anyone in the building who’d even seen Jayden.  Never really leaves his room, apparently.”

“For ten months?”  Ethan looked aghast.  “That kind of…isolation…”

“Yeah.”  Madison’s tone was thoughtful now.  “I wonder why?”

“He said he was going back to New York,” Ethan suddenly recalled.  “Tomorrow?”

“Mmmhmm, taking the bus.”  Tiny details, mentioned in passing over supper earlier that night.  Madison automatically picked up a pen and tapped it absently against the pad of paper on her desk.  She was so used to doing this while working.

“Why don’t we ask him to stay with us?”  Ethan looked unsure when he said it, but once the words were out he was more certain.  “For awhile.  While he’s on sick leave.”

“Well, I _was_ originally hoping we could get him to babysit for us—which was a pipe dream to begin with, I realize” she added when Ethan laughed.  “But, are you sure it’s a good idea, Ethan?  I mean, we don’t know what’s wrong with him.  What if it's some kind of...sensory overload or something and the isolation helps, and we mess it up?”

“What does isolation ever help?”  Ethan asked.  He had a point.  “Besides,” he continued, “I’m sure he’ll decline if it’s in his best interest.  He probably will anyway, but.”

“We do owe him a lot,” Madison agreed.  “A whole hell of a lot.  And if there’s any chance we could be doing him a favor by inviting, that’s a decent enough reason, right?”

 

\-------------------------

 

Norman Jayden listened to the message on his phone replay.

“Hi, Jayden.  It’s Madison Paige.  Look, I just wanted to thank you again for coming to dinner.  We all had a great time.  It was nice to see you, and catch up.  I…know this is a bit of an odd invitation, but, if you’d like to stay with us for awhile, while you’re on medical leave... I know Shaun would be excited, and I don’t think there’s anyone else alive Ethan would ever feel comfortable leaving Shaun with.  He might actually take a break from worrying about Shaun for once.  I mean--we owe you an awful lot, and we'd be more than happy to have you stay.  I know you’re probably busy, or in a hurry to get home to New York, but, if you ever would like to, or would just like to stop by again sometime, the invitation is open.”

The recording clicked off.  Norman sat there, thinking.  It took him a second to stop replaying words in his heads and focus on what they'd meant.  He'd already listened to the message twice now.

Stay with them?  The hell had this come from?  Nice of them--A little unusual.  He wouldn’t do it, of course.  No... No, he couldn't.  There was just no way.  He had barely kept it together for three hours.  Anything longer and...  He couldn’t _be_ around people, not normally.  Sure, it’d been nice.  But it would be crazy to think about staying anywhere but a room by himself.  By himself, he didn’t have to figure out what was ARI.  Everything was.  And he didn’t want to…For them to...He didn’t want them to know, or to see, or something.  It had been a nice evening because he’d been able to pretend things were like they had been.  Okay again.  He didn’t want to lose that too.

He heard a rumble.  Real?  ARI?  ARI.  Right?  The room around him shuddered, and melted away.  Slowly, crackling to life, like a fire consuming the room in reverse, his New York apartment built itself around him, covering the little hotel room completely.  He sat still and watched it without response.  He could do nothing to stop it. 

The dim room, the stacks of books, the silent phone.  The dark windows.  The empty space.  He heard the faint sounds of people in the room below him, always too quiet to determine words.  The sound of static, the ARI was making it.  The faint static consumed all other sounds.  Just the room.  The room waiting in New York.

Jayden buried his head in his hands and closed his eyes.  God dammit, his hands were shaking.  He’d fucking quit, so why?

Too late.

He let out a breath slowly, and took another in at the same speed.  He kept his eyes shut. 

The phone rang, and he automatically reached for the one on his right, where it was in his New York apartment.  It took him a few seconds to remember he wasn’t in New York, and there was a second phone on his left—the real one.  He picked it up.

“Agent Norman Jayden, FBI.”  The voice on the other end acknowledged his greeting, and began to ask about changes in the state of the ARI.  He could hear it in the caller’s voice, the same caller as so many times before.  That certainty with a hint of almost boredom.  This was a procedure.  She’d already filled out the paper work, she was just confirming the answers.  Months of the same conversation played over in his head.  The certainty in the bored girl’s voice growing stronger and more final with each memory. 

“No, no changes.”  Norman’s eyes were still shut.  Just him, and the voice. 

“It’s lucky this trip didn’t affect you negatively.  It was a risky choice.”  Disapproval.  “Do you think it’s toned down at all—let you move more freely, then?  Maybe some slight improvement?” 

“No.”  He knew the operator had already known the answer.  “Anything on your end?”

“Nothing new, sir.  We’re doing the best we can. Just let us know, if anything changes.”  Same response.  Same voice.  Same tone.  “We’ll check in once you get back in New York tomorrow.”

The phone clicked off.

Norman didn’t open his eyes for a long time.  Back to New York.  Back to the apartment.  He was already there, he couldn’t escape it. 

Norman Jayden missed his bus.

 

\----------------------------------------------------

 

Ethan Mars walked past a bus stop, holding a couple bags of groceries.  Norman Jayden must have left for New York by now, right?  He hadn’t called Madison back.  Maybe he’d taken an earlier bus, and the call had come too late.  Or maybe it was just an unusual invitation, and he’d been in a hurry.  It was too bad.  He wished they’d been able to do something to thank the FBI agent for everything he had done for them.  Not that whatever he could think of to do would be enough to thank that man for saving his life, and the life of his son.

Ethan set his groceries on the roof of his car and opened the back driver's side door.  He placed the groceries inside, then climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car up.

He drove slowly on his way home; it was pouring down rain.  He had chosen the route home that would take him past Jayden’s hotel.  It wasn’t like he was expecting to stop there or anything—there was no particular reason.  He’d just been thinking about Jayden, and that part of town, so he’d taken the exit that brought him past it, rather automatically.  He definitely hadn’t expected to see Norman Jayden sitting outside his apartment, when he drove past.  But there he was, a full day after he should have left for New York.  Sitting on the steps outside a ground floor hotel room.  He couldn’t tell what the FBI agent was looking at, he seemed to be staring at nothing, but the man was out in the rain, getting soaked.  Ethan pulled his car over to the curb and climbed out.

“Jayden?”

The FBI agent took a second to hear him, then turned his head slowly towards Ethan.  “Mars?”

Ethan picked his umbrella up off the seat and opened it, then shut the car door and walked closer.  “What are you doing out in the rain?”

The agent looked up at the sky, as if realizing for the first time that it _was_ raining. 

Ethan took another few steps closer, and held the umbrella over Jayden’s head.  “You okay?”

Jayden turned his head a little to the right, as if just seeing the umbrella, then shifted his gaze down and looked at Ethan.  “Yeah.”  His head moved up again, looking back towards the sky, or the umbrella.  For a second, his grey eyes followed a path from the umbrella downwards, as if watching raindrops falling through it.  Then, slowly, he focused on Ethan again.  “What are you doing here?”

“I was just driving by, when I saw you out here.” Ethan gestured to the car parked on the shoulder. 

“You’re getting rained on.”  Jayden was right.  The umbrella wasn’t big enough for both of them, at least as far apart as they were.  Ethan’s shirt was quickly becoming soaked. 

“I don’t mind.   I’m used to it.  Half the time I forget to bring an umbrella, even though it rains like this every fall.”  Ethan hesitated, then sat down on the steps next to Jayden, still holding the umbrella above the other man’s head.  “I only even have this one because Madison bought it for me.”

Jayden was staring blankly at something in the distance.  It took him a second to realize Ethan had sat down.  He blinked, and looked at Ethan for a second, then went back to looking at something beyond the road in front of them again.

Ethan didn’t know how to respond.  The FBI agent beside him seemed completely lost in the rain.  He could see his face now.  His eyes were swollen, sunken and dark.  The clear grey of his irises almost seemed transparent, and empty.  He looked so much more haggard and worn than he had the other night.  His face was almost blank, like everything had been drained from it.  All that was left was a quiet, tired focus, on that one point on the horizon he seemed so fixed on.  Ethan couldn’t see anything that way past the rain.

“Norman, are you alright?”  Ethan could tell something was wrong, but he had no idea what.  Was this his fault?  Something from the case a year ago?

His name—his first name—seemed to get through to Jayden.  Ethan had never used it before.  The FBI agent blinked again, then squeezed his eyes shut for a second.  When he opened them, he turned his head towards Ethan.  He looked just a little more awake.  “What?”  It was like he was having a hard time seeing Ethan, for some reason.

“I said, ‘are you okay?’”  Ethan repeated.  In the distance, thunder rumbled.

Jayden slowly looked away again.  “No.  Not really.”

“What is it?”  Ethan asked, watching the other man with concern as his gaze slid back to the horizon.

“ARI.”  Ethan didn’t know what that was, but he kept listening.  There was a long pause before Jayden continued.  “I can’t shut it off.  Things that aren’t there.  Like this rain.”  He slowly held out a hand, and watched water droplets bounce off his fingers.  “Or maybe not.”  His voice was slow.  He turned his head back towards Ethan.  “I can’t tell anymore.”

Ethan was trying to keep up.  Hallucinations of some kind?  “When did this start?”

“Little under two months after the Origami Killer was caught.”  Norman was still watching his hand.  Ethan wondered if they were seeing the same rain. 

“Because of…’Ehrie’?”  Ethan tried to remember what Jayden had called it.

“ARI.  Used it too much.”  Jayden’s hand went instinctively to his face, but he wasn’t wearing glasses.  He let his hand slowly rest on his knee again.

“Investigating the case?” Ethan asked, still a little behind, trying to catch up.

Jayden nodded slowly.

“It’s been ten months, then?  The FBI, can’t they do anything?”

Jayden shrugged.  “They don’t know what’s wrong.  ARI’s new.  Nobody knows how to fix it.”  He still sounded like he was in a haze.  He closed his eyes and let his chin rest against his chest.

 _I wonder if he knows I’m real?_ Ethan watched the unresponsive man beside him for a couple of seconds.  He was soaked.  Ethan wondered how long he’d been out there.  “So, you’re stuck like this?”  His voice was quiet, sympathetic.

The FBI agent opened his eyes, but he didn’t seem to see anything. He gave a slow nod. 

Ten months, alone in New York.

Ethan stood up, decision made.  Jayden was vaguely aware of the movement, and turned his head slowly to look up at him, as if trying to confirm his new location.  Ethan held out a hand to Norman.  Norman looked at the hand and blinked, but didn’t respond.

“Come on,” Ethan smiled.  In this position, the umbrella was finally able to shelter them both from the rain. 

Norman looked up at Ethan’s face, down at the hand again, then back to Ethan.  “Where?”

“I think you ought to stay with us for awhile,” Ethan turned his wrist, making the hand easier to reach.  “We’d all be glad to have the company.”

Norman was still unfocused, out of it, but for just a moment his face looked just vaguely more responsive. He looked at the hand for a long moment, silent, then finally:  “Are you sure?” 

He looked up into Ethan’s face.  Ethan smiled and nodded.  Norman cautiously took the hand, as if he expected his fingers to phase through Ethan.  They didn’t.  Norman's skin was ice cold.  Ethan took the younger man’s pale hand in his and helped him to his feet, then put an arm around his shoulder and guided him towards the car.  Norman looked uncertain as they walked slowly to the passenger side.  Ethan opened the door, and he hesitated.  He looked at Ethan one more time, then carefully climbed inside the car.

Ethan joined him inside in a second, turned the keys, and started off towards home.  Norman looked at him once, then slowly turned his gaze back towards the windshield and kept it there.  Both men were soaked.  Water was dripping onto the seats.  But none of that really mattered.


	3. Father and Son

Norman Jayden woke up slowly.  His head ached like it hadn’t in weeks.  When he opened his eyes, the bright room was blindingly painful.  He couldn’t keep them open for more than a few seconds against the stabbing pain.  Even with them shut again patterns of light crackled across his vision.  The thudding in his head grew worse, almost unbearable.

Norman tried to sit up.  He felt nauseous, and the pounding in his head increased with movement, so harsh it felt like being struck.  He groaned, managing to prop himself up on an elbow.  He put his other hand to his face, trying to find some way to combat the relentless pain.  He tried to open his eyes again, squinting against the bright light.  It was too much--he couldn't handle it.  He closed them and bit his lip, trying to force himself through the pain.

“Jayden.”  He heard the voice over the pounding in his head.  Something touched his shoulder.

He opened his eyes again, squinting in the direction of the sound.  It hurt, but through the blinding light he could just make out the speaker.

“Ethan?” 

Ethan Mars had a hand on his shoulder, helping him stay upright.  His face was full of worry.

_What the hell’s going on?_

He barely got the thought out between waves of pain.

“Yes—are you alright?”  It was definitely Ethan Mars.  “Can I do anything to help you?”

“What’s—” A flash of pain stopped him in the middle of the sentence.  He reeled forward with it, but Ethan caught him.

“Here.” 

Norman hadn’t realized he’d shut his eyes again, but the voice was Ethan’s.  He forced his eyes open and saw a hand, holding a glass of water.  He slowly reached out and took it, hand shaking.  He tried to force him arm still but he couldn't stop the trembling—damn it—he couldn’t—

He lost his grip and the glass fell.  He heard it shatter.  He had to close his eyes again.  

“Hang on.”

The hand left his shoulder.  Norman opened his eyes enough to see his hands were still trembling.  He tried, he tried so hard to force them to stop.  But he couldn’t.  The light became too much again, and he shut his eyes.

The hand was back on his shoulder. 

“Here, I’ve got it.” 

Glass pressed up against his lips.  Norman put his shaking hand up to the cup.  This time Ethan didn’t let go.  Norman managed to swallow most of the water.  He hadn’t realized how much he needed it, but his body rebelled, and he shook for a minute, trying to cough it back up.  When the convulsions stopped, Ethan’s hand was still on his shoulder.  He managed to get another drink into Norman. 

Norman’s body tried again, but this one went down easier.  When his chest stopped heaving, and everything was finally still, Norman felt just a little better.  His head was still throbbing, but it was less mind-numbingly stabbing.  More of a relentless, dull ache.  It was swimming, though.  He felt dizzy, and his thoughts were all jumbled together in a fog.

“Maybe we should take you to a hospital.”  Mars sounded worried.  Mars.  Right.  Why the hell was he here?

“I’m okay.”  Norman’s breathing was starting to even out a little.  

“Are you sure?”  Mars sounded anything but convinced. 

“Yeah.”  Norman curled his left hand into a fist until his nails bit into his palm, and tried to focus on the pain.  He forced himself to keep his eyes open, blinking to combat the light.  Slowly, he turned his head and squinted at Mars.  “I’ve been worse.”  Half true.  Plenty of the symptoms had been way worse, but this had never happened before.  Whatever 'this' was.  “What happened?”

_Where am I, when is it, why are you here, why can’t I remember?_

Ethan was blurry through the light, but Norman could make out most of his expression.  It reminded him very much of the way he’d looked the first time they’d crossed paths, at the police station over a year ago. 

“You don’t remember?”

“No.”

He wished to god he did, but last thing he remembered, he’d been in his hotel room.  After that, everything sort of blurred, jumbled together.  There were just fragments of things--images, sounds.  None he could focus on.  Just a faint memory of a pitch black storm that couldn’t have been real.

“I saw you outside of your hotel, out in the rain.”  Ethan said it like he hoped the words would jog Norman’s memory.  “You didn’t look too good, so I stopped, and we talked--I invited you to come and stay with us.”

Norman’s heart sank.  He’d had a breakdown, a full-on breakdown, and he couldn’t even remember it.  And Mars had been there.  He looked back at Ethan.  “Sorry, I don’t remember.”

Mars looked concerned by his expression.  “It’s alright.  I’m just glad you’re awake again.  You were really out of it.  How are you feeling?”

 _How am I feeling._   His hands were still trembling. The light still hurt.  God damn it, he couldn’t remember.

“I’ve been worse.”

“You’re sure you don’t need a doctor?” Mars asked.

“No.”  Norman could hear the weariness in his own voice. “They wouldn’t know what to do.” 

“Right.  You said something like that.”  Ethan still looked concerned.  “But…”

Said something like that?  Shit, what had he said?  “Look, thanks.  For everything.  But I should probably go.”

“You’re welcome to stay,” Mars sounded like he meant it. 

“I can’t, I’ve...”  Norman’s whole body gave an involuntary shudder. He couldn’t tell if it was ARI, or just the cold, or...

He saw movement then, something unreal starting to creep into the edge of his vision.  God damn it, he’d only been awake for something like five minutes.  And already.  Already.  His head still throbbed.  There was no way he could stay.  Even if Mars meant it, he didn’t really know what having him there would mean—what it was like now with—this—thing.  ARI was too much.  And he couldn’t…

Ethan had a hand on his shoulder again, worried. Norman didn't know how long it had been there, how much time he'd just lost. “Norman?”

He blinked at Ethan, trying to get his face back in focus against the blindingly white room.  “Yeah. Sorry.  Thank you, for offering.  But I can’t stay here.  I’ve got this…” he made a vague gesture with a hand that had started shaking uncontrollably.  “I didn’t want to bring you into this.  It’s my problem.”

Ethan shook his head. “You don’t need to apologize.  I want to help.”

Norman glanced at Ethan, then turned away.  “I appreciate it, but you can’t help me.” Norman was suddenly colder.  It hit him like a wave.  He shivered and tucked one of his arms up to his chest, as if huddling against the cold could warm him again.  “There’s no solution," he continued, "and none of this has anything to do with you.” 

“Of course it does.  You saved my life, and the life of my son.  I owe you more than I could ever hope to pay back, but if there's any way I can help.”

Norman glanced up at him again.  Ethan looked sincere, and worried.  He looked like he meant it.  Norman’s head ached.  He was trying so hard to think clearly, but everything was too bright.  He might think he meant it, but Mars didn’t know what it was like, what it would mean--not really.  They barely knew him.  He couldn’t just stay in their house like he had in New York.  Always alone in a dark room, waiting for things to change, always half in-half out of reality. 

Besides, he was the kind of fucked up you like to keep to yourself.  Norman shuddered.  It was so damn cold.  He couldn’t think straight.

 

 

He hadn’t noticed Mars move, but he looked up and saw him standing in front of him, holding out a bundle of clothes.  

“I’m sorry, you must be freezing.  You were soaked, but I thought turning up the thermostat would...Here.” 

Norman’s hands were still trembling.  Slowly, he reached up to take the clothes.  Something about the motion clicked in his head.  There was a sudden flood of sights, and sounds—rain, and a storm.

A hand.  An umbrella.

He remembered Ethan’s face.  He had smiled.

Ethan helped him take the bundle in his shaking hands.  Norman clutched the bundle tightly and looked at it for a moment, then back at Ethan. “You know.  I told you about ARI.”

Ethan tilted his head.  “The hallucinations?  Yes.  You did.”

Pitch black sky.  Endless rain.  Nothing real.  And then…He’d…He.  So then…

“You want me to stay?” he looked up at Ethan.  It was awful, for someone to know everything that was wrong with you. Unimaginably so.

“Of course.  You saved my family.  My life.  You're...a friend.  It’s the least I can do.” 

He really looked like he meant it honestly.  He really...  Norman looked back down at the bundle of clothes.  “Thanks.”

“Then, you’re going to stay?” Ethan sounded something between surprised and relieved. Maybe even happy.

“Sure.…Tonight anyway.”  He ran his thumb over the grey sweater on top of the bundle of clothes. “Thanks.”

“Glad to hear it.”  There was an awkward pause, then Ethan spoke up again.  “I’ll let you change.  If you need anything, just call.”

Alone, Norman changed into Ethan’s clothes.  He himself didn’t really own very much in the way of casual outfits.  He hadn’t ever had time to wear them.  He found his drenched suit coat on the back of a nearby chair, and folded his dress shirt on top of it.  Norman hadn’t even realized he was soaked until Ethan had mentioned it.  Prying off the wet clothes was like shedding a skin, and he was still unsteady on his feet.  And the room seemed suddenly so cold.  Norman fumbled a bit with the pants, but got them on.  Ethan’s clothes were loose and comfortable, a little big on him.  He and Mars had been similar heights and sizes, but Norman had withered a little over the past year.

The effort expended, Norman sunk onto the floor and leaned against the couch.  The pain from the glaring overhead lights was only getting worse.  His head still ached, and standing had left him drained and weak.   He saw a light switch on the wall across from him and slowly forced himself to stand up and walk to it, leaning against the wall for support.  He flipped it off, and finally the room was dark enough.  The pain in his head eased a little.  The relief almost bowled him over, and Norman sunk to the ground again and let his back rest against the wall.  He could hear faint voices coming from the other side of a door across the room. 

He wondered what they were saying.  Everything had happened without giving him a chance to stop and think.  Was he really going to stay here?  How could he.  He liked Mars and Paige, and the kid, sure--they were good people.  Which was why he really hadn’t wanted them to know anything about ARI—how bad things were.  He looked down at his hands, and tried to hold down his wrist to stop them from trembling.  _A little late for that now._ He let his head tilt back and looked up at the ceiling.

_I could go back to New York._

Almost as he finished the thought, he heard ARI crackle.  He shut his eyes, but he could still hear it building around him.  He kept his eyes closed.

_Damn it._

He could stay.  For a little.  Just…To see.  Maybe just one night.  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.  Maybe it didn’t matter, because he was too damn tired to move anyway.  Shit, he probably  _couldn't_ stand again.

He didn’t hear the door squeak the first time, but at the second squeak the sound registered.  Norman opened his eyes.  He squinted at the dim room, trying to find the source of the noise.  Artificial ARI light flickered off of unreal objects, making it difficult to see past them.  Eventually he found it though; a small head peeking out from behind a door across the room. 

Shaun Mars jumped—he hadn’t meant to be spotted.  He carefully stuck his head out a little further from behind the door to his room and glanced around.  Coast apparently clear, he slipped into the living room and stole over, stopping a few feet across from Norman.

“Hi."  The kid paused and awkwardly tucked his hands behind his back.  "Dad says you’re going to stay with us for awhile.”  

“Yeah,” Norman answered, looking up at him.  “I guess I am.”

Shaun broke into a smile.  “I’m really happy you’re staying!”  He took another two steps forward.  “You can share my room, if you want—It’s the best one—Or you could stay there and I could stay on the couch out here,” (the couch, the ultimate sacrifice—right between the tv and the kitchen).  Shaun had already made both of these pitches to his parents, and been shot down immediately on both accounts. 

“Thanks,” this whole situation somehow felt even more unreal than usual to Norman “but the couch is fine with me.  I’d hate to kick someone out of their room.”

Shaun sat down across from Norman.  “Are you feeling better?”

“Uh...yeah.” A little taken aback, Norman hesitated between the words.  An ARI newspaper blew past on some nonexistent breeze.  Norman forced his eyes not to track it.  “Think so.”

“Dad said you got hurt, in the FBI?”  Shaun’s eyes were wide and curious.

Norman gave a slow nod.  “Something like that.”

“Can I see?” Shaun leaned forward.  Something about the excitement on the kid’s face made Norman laugh involuntarily.  That was exactly how kids were.  They loved showing off scars.

Norman smiled.  “Sorry kid, it’s an internal bleeding kind of wound.” 

This actually seemed to impress Shaun even more, if possible.  “Does it still hurt?”

“Yeah.” Norman nodded.  “It does.”  After a second, he impulsively added to his answer, to fill the silence.  “That’s why I turned the lights off.” 

“It hurts your eyes?”  Shaun asked, looking up at him.  Norman nodded again, and Shaun considered this for a few seconds.  “Can you see in the dark?”

“Pretty well,” Norman answered.  “I’m used to it.”

Shaun crawled over and sat next to Norman, back against the wall.  He pointed at something across the room.  “Can you read the clock from here?”

Norman squinted.  His eyes were very used to working in low light after a year of it.  ARI was less of a distraction this time.  “8:45ish.”

Shaun looked amazed.  “Night vision.”

Norman smiled.  “I don’t know I’d call it that, exactly, but.”  He shrugged.  “Something like that.”

Shaun cocked his head and studied Norman.  “Is that why you wear sunglasses so much?”

“Yeah, it is.”  Norman’s fingers automatically went to his eyes, as if expecting to find a pair of sunglasses for him to adjust.  He lowered his hand again and let it rest in his lap.  It was still trembling uncontrollably.  He squeezed his fingers into a fist, trying to fight it.

“Do you have to go to the doctor a lot?” Shaun asked, tucking his knees up to his chin.  “I had to go all the time last year, and take a whole bunch of pills, because ‘exposure’.”

“Not a big fan?” Norman asked.

Shaun shook his head.  “I just wanted to stay at home with dad, and go outside and play.  And medicine doesn’t taste very good.”

“Yeah,” Norman sighed, feeling more somber. “It doesn’t.”  He looked down at his hand again.  “I don’t have to go very much.  Once a month or so.”

“Because you’re an adult?”

“Maybe.”  Norman almost smiled.  “How about you?  All healed up?”

“Yep.”  Shaun started to say something else and hesitated.  His expression changed.  He looked at his socks for a few seconds. 

 _Did I say something wrong?_ Norman watched his expression, a little concerned.  _Shit. I can’t talk to kids._

Finally, Shaun looked up again.  “Can I tell you something?”  Norman nodded.  “I still have dreams about it.”

“Yeah?”  Norman asked carefully.

Shaun nodded.  “I don't like to go to bed.  I have lots of them.  About…drowning.  I keep waiting for them to stop.”  The kid had gone back to staring fixedly at his socks.

 _Oh._ Norman was silent for a second.  He tucked his own knees up to his chest and rested his arms on top of them, then looked over at the kid.  “Yeah.  Me too.”

Shaun looked up in surprise, wide eyes catching the little light left in the room.  “You do?”

“Not about drowning, but, yeah.  Lots of bad dreams I can’t wake up from, or quit having.”

Shaun let his chin rest on the arms folded across his knees.  “It makes it hard to sleep, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Norman matched his stance.  “It does.”

Shaun glanced over at him.  “What do you do when you have your dreams?”

“Just…try to remember it’s not real.”  Norman held up a hand and studied it carefully in the dim light.  “What’s not real can’t hurt you anymore, right?”

“Yeah.”  Shaun sighed.  “It’s hard to remember that when you’re dreaming.”

“It is.”  Norman let his hand rest and looked over at Shaun.  “You know, you’re a tough kid.”  Shaun looked up at him in surprise again, and Norman smiled.  “You were really brave—you survived everything that happened a year ago.  And here you are, a year later.  Nightmares to deal with all the time, and you’re still able to be friendly with strangers.”  Shaun grinned and looked away.  “Not everyone can do that,” Norman added.  It was true.

“You’re not a stranger,” Shaun protested.

“No?”  Norman asked.

“No.”  Shaun shook his head.  “And you’re friendly too.  You just can’t look at the lights right now.”

“I guess we aren’t too different then, huh?” 

 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Well, I’m glad you talked him into it, anyway.”  Madison sat up and leaned against the headboard. 

“Yeah.  So am I.”  Ethan was sitting at the foot of the bed.  “But I don’t know if he’ll stay for long.  I don’t think he feels at ease with other people around.”

“I can’t blame him.”  Madison pulled a pillow into her lap and squeezed it.  “The poor guy.”

“Yeah.”  Ethan was lost in thought again.

“Do you think Shaun will understand?”  Madison sighed.  “It’s a complicated thing, even to adults.  I wouldn’t want him to feel uncomfortable—Either of them.”  Ethan didn’t say anything, but he nodded thoughtfully.  “It’s been a while,” Madison suddenly realized, catching sight of a clock on the bedside table.  “I’m sort of worried we haven’t heard anything from him yet—it’s been almost an hour.  Oh, god—Ethan, you said he still wasn’t doing too well—do you think he passed out?”

Ethan followed her glance to the clock.  “Crap!”  He’d lost track of the time, talking to Madison.  It _had_ almost been an hour.  The complete silence on the other side of the door couldn’t possibly be a good sign. 

Ethan bolted for the door and cracked it open.  He was vaguely aware of Madison moving up behind him.  It was dark in the living room.  Someone had shut off the lights.  It was getting late, too.  Almost ten.  Ethan opened the door the rest of the way and stepped out.  He couldn’t see well in the light and at a distance, but he was pretty sure the couch was empty now.  He looked at Madison, who had slipped out beside him.  “Do you think he left?”

Madison was squinting through the darkness too, surveying the room.  “I—”  Madison stopped and her expression changed.  Surprise, then confusion, then recognition flashed across her face at lightning speed, finally melting into something that looked very much like a choked back grin.  “Ethan.”  She pointed.  He followed her gaze.  He saw them, and his mind went through the same stages hers had. 

The light was just barely bright enough to reveal Norman Jayden slumped against a wall across from the couch.  He was wearing Ethan’s clothes, and his eyes were shut.  Shaun was curled up next to Norman, using his side as a pillow.

It took Ethan longer to process than it had taken Madison.

“They’re asleep,” he heard her say from beside him.  He looked over and saw her struggle with the grin hand been lost, and she was smiling now--almost laughing.  “I guess we were worried over nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the fic is finished, and will be added shortly. Thanks for the kudos and comment. They mean a lot.


	4. Kick Off Meeting

December had come quickly that year.  Madison Paige looked at her watch and sighed.  It was starting to snow outside, and she wanted to get home to Shaun.  It would probably have to be another couple of hours, though.  Sometimes she could blow off work, but this story was big.

“Close to finished on that rough?”

Madison looked up and nodded at Alan.  He had been stuck holding down the fort while she and three other journalists had been running around town following leads.  Unsurprisingly, he was holding a cup of coffee with a candycane in it and didn’t look to disappointed with the lack of excitement he’d been assigned.

“Almost.”  Madison handed him a sheet of shorthand.  “Joyce wanted me to pass this on to you.”

“Got it, thanks.”  Alan waved and disappeared. 

Madison took one last wistful look out the window, and went back to focusing on her work.  Shaun would have to wait.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Watch out! It’s breaking!”  Shaun Mars leapt for the ledge.

Norman looked down.  The unbroken chunk of floor he was precariously balanced on was splintering.  He just managed to jump to safety as the floor sunk beneath him, engulfed in a mess of flames.  Norman looked up to make sure Shaun had made his jump, and he had, but the eleven-year-old was struggling to pull himself on top of the ledge with his small arms.  Norman took off at a run, jumping from safe landing to landing. 

“Hang on, I’m coming,” Norman called.  He made a flying leap for a little ledge against a the wall, but lost his balance and almost pinwheeled backwards, somehow barely managing to find something on the wall to grab onto.  He caught his breath and looked over at Shaun.

“Hurry!” the kid called, his face tight with concentration.

“Almost there!”  Norman inched along the ledge as fast as he could, slowly getting closer and closer to the ledge Shaun was clinging to.  Finally, he was close enough to risk a jump.  He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and shoved off the wall with all his might. 

Norman impacted with the top of the ledge and he skidded to the edge, just managing to grab onto Shaun’s wrists as the boy let go.  “Gotcha!”

He pulled Shaun up, and the two panted for a second.  The heat coming from the floor beneath them couldn’t touch Shaun’s exuberant mood.  “That was amazing, you jumped like 100 feet!”  Shaun stood up.  “Come on, we’re almost out!”

Norman smiled.  “Hey, if you hadn’t warned me—”

Shaun had started to jump to a safer landing, but he missed his footing.  Everything suddenly was flying by in slow motion as Norman watched him fall backwards.

“Shaun!”

Norman dove for him, snatching him out of the air and tucking his body up around the kid like a shield.  The two of them careened into something hard and Norman heard glass shatter.

There were a few seconds of silence, then he heard Shaun laughing.

“That was so cool!”

Norman opened his eyes.  “I think we both burned to death.  You okay?” 

There were no smoldering ledges and chunks of stone, only the Mars’s living room.  Rocks were just couch cushions on the floor, ledges baseboards, or furniture, and Shaun had taken a fall from the couch top.

“Mmmhmm.”  Shaun nodded.

Norman looked around.  They’d landed on the glass topped coffee table.  Somehow, The Floor is Lava had seemed like a fairly safe idea when Shaun had pitched it an hour ago. 

Apparently, not so much.

Shaun noticed the fragments of glass on the ground around them.  “Are you okay?  Did the glass cut you?”

“I don’t think so.  Just, be really careful getting up, okay?”  Norman slowly unfolded and let go of Shaun.  “Do you see somewhere safe to step?”  Shaun nodded, and climbed off Norman’s chest.  Slowly, Norman sat up and surveyed the disaster.  “Hmmm….What are the odds your mom won’t kill me?”

Shaun didn’t look too hopeful.

The coffee table was absolutely destroyed.  The glass had, thankfully, completely shattered—like a car windshield—leaving a much smaller chance of impaling yourself on a piece of glass.

Norman stood up a little shakily—adrenaline still pumping.

“You’re bleeding!” 

Norman followed Shaun’s worried look and pointing finger to his side.  A chunk of the metal frame had cut the side near his left shoulder.  Norman moved over to a mirror hanging on the wall and checked the cut.  “It’s not bad,” he reassured the kid.  It wasn’t. 

Norman looked back at the remains of the coffee table.  “Well, this doesn’t look too good for us.” 

Shaun shook his head.  Norman looked at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall, then back at the table.  Shaun watched him.  “It was awesome, though.  We almost made it through the whole house this time.”

“Yeah, maybe a little too awesome.”  Norman thought for a second, then looked at Shaun.  “Okay, Shaun.  We’ve got four hours until they come back.”

Shaun had been distractedly staring at the piece of metal coffee table frame with Norman’s blood on it, but his head shot up at his name.  “You have a plan?”

Norman smiled.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Norman held open the door and stepped out onto the front porch. Shaun Mars tugged on gloves as he followed Norman out into the cold.  As far as Norman could tell, it was always cold here.  Your choices were cold, wet and cold, snowy and cold, or all of the above and coldest.  He wrapped his arms around his chest and internally cursed the cold.  It was blindingly bright, too—the snow.  He was glad he’d put on his sunglasses before stepping out. 

Shaun smiled up at him.  “You look like a secret agent.”

“Good,” Norman replied “let’s just hope this stays a secret from your parents.”

“Are you gonna drive?” Shaun asked, fumbling with his scarf.  “Where do we get a car?”

“Nah, no, I can’t.  Not with my eyes like they are,” he gestured vaguely towards his sunglasses.  “Not yet.  I called a cab.  See?”

There was one waiting for them near the bottom of the steps.

“Cool!”  Shaun didn’t get to ride in cabs very often.  Really, ever.

“Let’s go.”  Norman was ready to be out of the cold. “You have everything you need—warm enough?” Shaun nodded, holding up his hands to display his gloves.

Norman locked the door and the two piled into the cab.  Norman gave the driver directions to a set of department stores across town, and they were off.

About fifteen minutes later they were in a store, hot on the trail of a matching glass top coffee table to replace the one they’d broken.

“According to their ads online, they should have it,” Norman said in mild frustration, trying to find his way through the furniture section.

Shaun tugged on his sleeve.  “Look at that!”

“Hmm?”  Norman turned to look.  Shaun was indicating a deformed looking lamp.

“It looks like it survived an explosion,” Shaun explained.

“It does.  Not as much as whatever  that is, though,” Norman agreed, pointing to an equally ugly night stand.

“Whoa.” Shaun stopped walking to look at a coffee table.  It was a glass top on a curled stone-looking dragon.  “Can we get this instead?”

“It’s more interesting, but I’m pretty sure your mom would pick up on the difference,” replied Norman, distractedly scanning the isle. 

“After we get the table can we go get—” Whatever Shaun had been going to ask about was cut off by Norman’s cell phone going off. 

“Just a second, Shaun.”  Norman answered the cell.  “Jayden.”  The expression on his face quickly went from neutral, to annoyance, then confusion, then something a little worse than confusion.  “I’m sorry, what?”

Shaun watched as Norman listened to the speaker on the other end.

“ _Agent Jayden”_ the voice on the other end of the phone was composed and professional.  “Your progress these last two months has been very unexpected and impressive.  We’re bringing you in to run a few tests.  There were several agents using the earlier forms of the ARI device and suffering similar symptoms.  Of those agents, only one other has shown any progress.  Hopefully, with some testing and careful monitoring, we can figure out why, and replicate your results with the others.  As soon as we finish with testing, and as long as you clear these tests, which we expect you will, you’ll be cleared to go back into the field.”

Norman couldn’t think straight.  “Wait, so…”

The woman on the other end waited a few seconds.  “Agent Jayden? Are you there.”

“Yeah, yes—sorry.  I’m here.”  His head was suddenly pounding.  Norman put his hand against the wall for support.  Shaun looked at the hand in confusion, then at Norman’s face, in concern. 

“Testing shouldn’t take long.  With your progress, we hope to have you back in the field by the end of February.”

“February?”  Norman was looking through the display in front of him, at something a long, long way off.  Something was wrong, it was like the air in the room had been cut in half.  “When…am I leaving?”

“Tuesday.  We’ve already sent you a bus ticket.  That gives you two days to pack up.”  The woman on the other end sounded happy.  “We look forward to getting you back in action, Agent Jayden.”

“Right…” Norman heard the call disconnect, but it took him a few seconds to lower the phone.

“Norman?”  The sound was foggy at first, but finally it registered.  Shaun Mars.

Norman attempted to focus on the kid.  “Yeah, sorry.”

“What’s wrong?”  Shaun looked worried.

Norman tried to sound convincing.  “Nothing, I’m fine.”  He tried to take a step and his leg almost gave out.  Everything started to crumble.  He knew it was ARI.  God damn it, it hadn’t been like this for—he’d thought he was past this!

The room broke itself slowly into tiny pieces.  Everything got dark.  The darkness started circling in, overcoming everything.  Norman took a step back and stumbled against the wall.  He thought he heard Shaun Mars’s voice, but he couldn’t hear it over the static like hissing that was growing louder and louder.  He put his hand against a pillar by the wall and sunk to the floor.  Nothing he could see was real.  Nothing at all.  Nothing but the phone in his hand.  He stared at it.  Something dark was seeping out of it, and into his hand.  Down his arm.  He couldn’t breathe.

“Norman!”

_Shaun._

Norman looked up and saw the kid.  Shaun was leaning over him, a hand on Norman’s knee and the other on his shoulder, trying to shake him. Shaun was worried.  Norman could see it in his eyes.

“It’s just a dream.  You can’t always make yourself wake up, but as long as you know it’s a dream, it can’t hurt you, remember?”  Shaun’s own nightmares hadn’t stopped, but ever since Norman had said the same thing two months ago, Shaun could make himself go to sleep.  He was still scared, but it didn’t haunt him.  He knew he would always wake up.

Norman’s eyes looked clouded, and haunted.  But Shaun’s words reached him. 

Around Norman, the darkness faded back a little.  He could see the room again, but everything felt blurry, and slow.  He could feel his heart racing and his hands shaking.  But there was air again.  He focused on Shaun’s face.

“Yes,” Norman managed after a second.  “You’re right.  It can’t hurt you.”  He took a deep breath.  It felt like he’d been underwater for too long, or the air was just too thin.  “Sorry, kid,” Norman slowly forced himself back to his feet.  Shaun tried to help him up.  “It’s okay,” he said, smiling at Shaun.  “I’m good now.”

“Are you sure?” asked Shaun, still looking concerned.

“Yeah, I am.”  He wasn’t, but at least he was back on his feet.  Anything more than two feet away was distorted and blinking in and out.  He wasn’t entirely sure what parts of the store were real and what was ARI.  But he was up, that was what mattered.  He looked back down at Shaun.  “That just sort of snuck up on me, I guess.”

“What was the phone call about?” asked Shaun. 

The smile faded form Norman’s face.  “I’m leaving.”

“What?” Shaun looked equally troubled.  “Why?”

Norman knelt and put his hand on Shaun’s shoulder.  “I have to go back to the FBI.  Back to work.  They just…wanted me sooner than I expected.”

“When?”  He thought Shaun might cry.

“Tuesday,” Norman replied, trying to sound consoling through the pain that hadn’t eased up in his head. “Hey, it’s okay.  I’m gonna—”

“Well, well, well, look who it is.”

Norman recognized that voice.  It instantly flooded his veins with anger. 

_Shit, not now.  Not like this._

Norman stood up and turned to face Carter Blake.  He just had to play it cool.  Seem normal.  The lights were flickering and the air was thinning again.  Norman knew they weren’t really, but it didn’t matter.  They were to him.  A wave of pain hit his head and he fought not to react.

“What, no hello?”  Blake asked, casually walking over.  Far too friendly.  Norman could see right through it, ARI or no.

“Blake,” Norman replied coolly.  Shaun looked from one to the other.  Recognition flashed across his face.  He put his hand in Norman’s and stepped behind him.

“Well,” Blake grinned at Shaun.  “I see you’re babysitting for the Mars now.  Not quite what I expected when I heard you were on sick leave from the FBI.  You were so sure you’d get a promotion out of that stunt you pulled.  This feels much more fitting.”

“Well,” Norman met Blake’s gaze and tried to ignore the way the room was tilting.  “Sick leave is hardly a demotion.  How’s suspension going for you?  Not quite what I was expecting either, but I’m sure they’ll fire you eventually.”

Blake narrowed his eyes, but the smile stayed.  “What did they say was wrong with you again?  Some sort of brain damage?  Pity.  You were such a promising profiler.”

“It’s none of your damn business, Blake.”  Once the words were out, Norman remembered Shaun.  He glanced at the kid, then met Blake’s gaze again.  “Are we done?”

“Sure,” Blake said, holding up his hands.  “Guess I hit a touchy subject.  Just glad to hear you won’t be heading back into the field any time soon.”

“I’m actually heading back later this week,” Norman replied.  “Hopefully you, on the other hand—”

“I’m sorry,” Blake cut Norman off “you’ve got something on your face.  Yeah.  Pretty sure that’s blood.”

Norman’s hand instinctively checked.  His nose was bleeding.  Badly.   _Damn it._

“Yeah, you look great,” Blake continued, pleased.  “You know, I’ve been hoping I’d run into you.  Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused for me?”

Things flickered in and out of his vision.  This was the worst possible damn time, of course, with Blake here.  It had to.

Blake got close.  Norman could tell from his stance he was looking for a fight.  The man radiated anger.

“Careful, Blake.  That almost sounded like a threat,” Norman said, trying to sound in control.

“You don’t look too great Jayden,” Blake continued, too close now.  “Good.”

Norman felt Blake’s hand on his shoulder.  He shoved Norman back.  Not hard, but Norman stumbled more than he should have.  He had to fight to keep his balance.  _He’s trying to provoke me._   Norman’s thoughts were chaotic, trying to focus through the pain in his head.

“Leave him alone!” 

Norman’s head snapped up.  Shaun had gotten between him and Blake.  Blake glanced at him in mild annoyance.

“Out of the way, kid,” Blake said, putting his hand on Shaun’s head and moving him out of the way.  “This is between me and—”

Norman’s hand shot out and knocked Blake’s arm away from Shaun.  “Get your damn hands off him,” Norman snapped.

Blake looked surprised, then pleased.  “Careful, Jayden.  That almost sounded like a threat.”

“You really want to do this now—here?”  Norman asked, gesturing at the surrounding store.  “With a kid, and God knows how many shoppers?”

“You know, I think I do” Blake replied.

“Yeah, that would look great, with that request for your termination from the force still pending,” Norman shot back.  This got through to Blake.  He considered for a second.

After a moment, Blake shrugged.  “Alright.  I’m sure our paths will cross again soon.”  Blake reached out a hand and ruffled Shaun’s hair carelessly.  “But I know for a fact that those requests ain’t going through.  I’m back on the force by the first, and that journalist bitch hasn’t succeeded in making anything but an enemy.  You might wanna tell the kid’s mom to back off.”

Norman looked at the hurt in Shaun’s eyes, and at the same moment his fist shot out and slammed into Blake’s chin.

_You know what, on second thought, that bastard’s going down._

The punch had been a good one, and Blake went reeling.  When his head came back up, he was angry and vengefully glad.  His fist shot out and Norman ducked.  It went sailing over his head.  The second punch caught Norman in the chest and he went down.  When he hit the floor, he swept Blake’s feet and Blake went crashing into a stack of coffee table boxes. 

Norman was up first, and swung at Blake while he was still off balance.  He got him in the eye.  Blake swung back and Norman’s nose was suddenly bleeding from ARI and from the punch.  Blake swung again, but Norman managed to move, and Blake’s fist connected with a metal shelf.  Norman blocked the second fist with his arm, grabbed Blake by the collar, and slammed his knee into Blake’s gut.  Blake got him by the shoulders and slammed him back into the wall.

“Hey!”  Mid swing they were both suddenly aware of a frantic clerk screaming at them. “Stop it! I’ll call the police!”

“I am the police” and “we are the police” came from the two combatants in unison, then Blake tried to punch Norman in the face, and Norman slammed his foot down on Blake’s.

Blake instinctively recoiled from the pain in his foot and Norman kicked him in the chest, knocking him backwards.

Norman suddenly realized that everything had become hyper-focused.  ARI was gone.  It was just him, and Shaun, and Blake. 

Blake was up again in a second.  He swung and Norman moved.  Norman hit back and Blake caught his fist, dragging him forward.  Norman’s head snapped back as Blake’s fist slammed into his right eye.  He heard Shaun yell something.  Norman felt Blake’s other fist slam into the other side of his head.  He managed to grab Blake’s arms, and the two grappled for a few seconds, then Norman saw an opening and headbutted Blake.  He heard Blake’s nose crack, and once he’d jumped back and gotten a second to breathe, he saw blood coming from it.  They were drawing a crowd.  A lot of people were filming it. 

As soon as he noticed it, Norman knew he shouldn’t have—he should have been focusing on Blake.  Blake slammed into him and they ended up on the floor, Blake on top of him, repeatedly trying to slam his fists into Norman’s face, while Norman struggled to block him.

“Get off him!” Shaun tried to pull Blake off.  Blake jerked his shoulder away from the kid and ignored him.  He drew back to hit Norman and his elbow slammed into Shaun’s head.

“Bastard!”  Norman spat the words out.  He got a hand on Blake’s throat.  Blake stopped punching to pry his fingers off, and Norman used his free hand to grab the hand Blake was supporting himself with.  Norman applied pressure and felt the thumb snap.  Blake shouted something unintelligible and fell back, holding the hand.  Norman reared back his foot and slammed it into Blake’s chest, sending him sprawling.  Immediately, his eyes scanned the crowd for Shaun.  Shaun was sitting a foot away, his hand over his eye. 

“Shaun!”  Norman was beside him in a second, kneeling down.  “I’m so sorry—are you okay?  Can I see?”

Shaun nodded and Norman moved his hand.  It wasn’t bad, but he was going to have a bruise.  Norman let out a sigh of relief.  “You’re going to be okay—”

Shaun’s expression changed and Norman knew what it was without turning.  Blake grabbed the back of his coat and jerked him backwards, choking him with the collar of his shirt.  Norman blindly elbowed him.  He hit something, but Blake didn’t let go.  Blake slammed Norman’s head forward, into the marble floor.  For a second, Norman couldn’t see anything.  He felt a hand on his throat.  Then suddenly Blake was off him and someone was pulling him to his feet. 

“Break it up!”  Store security had finally shoved its way through the crowd.  Two men were holding Blake back, and the third was holding tightly to Norman. 

One of the two holding Blake was shouting.  “The police will be here in a minute.  You two are in huge trouble!”

Norman wasn’t fighting.  After a few seconds, Blake calmed down too.

“Alright!”  One of the two by Blake let go and turned to address the crowd.  “Back off!  Get moving.”  The crowd was unwilling.  The guard looked from Blake to Norman.  “So, does someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

Immediately, several different interpretations were offered by the crowd.  Norman couldn’t distinguish anything clearly over the clamor. 

“I’m Lieutenant Carter Blake,” Blake said, sounding not quite composed.  “And he attacked me.”

“You’re Police?” asked the guard holding Blake, clearly wondering if that meant he ought to let go.

“I’m Agent Norman Jayden, FBI,” Norman interjected.  He saw his guard suddenly look even more conflicted than Blake’s.  “And Lieutenant Blake here is on suspension for, among other things, police brutality.”  Blake tried to say something, but Norman cut him off.  “He was aggressive.  Threatened me, the kid, and the kid’s family,” Norman indicated Shaun, then continued.  “Then he shoved me, trying to start a fight.  And shoved the kid.  I hit him in self-defense and he went off.  He has a history.”

“He’s trying to spin it,” Blake almost spat.  “Not a damn word of that—”

“Alright,” the guard who seemed to be in charge cut in.  “Let’s see some ID.  FBI agent and a Lieutenant?  Sure.” 

The two of them took out their ID.

The crowed was having a ball.

“Look,” Norman said to the guard next to him.  “I’m not going anywhere.  I need to check on my kid.  That asshole hit him in the eye.”

Norman’s guard was young and inclined to believe the FBI agent thing, so he complied.

“Shaun?” Norman turned to the kid and knelt down.  Shaun ran over.  People were still filming and taking pictures.  _Good_. 

All thoughts about the crowd disappeared as soon as Shaun reached him.  Shaun ran all the way over and threw his arms around Norman’s neck.  It took Norman a few seconds to process that, and he just knelt there in surprise.  Then, slowly, he put his arm around Shaun and hugged back.

“You okay kiddo?”  He asked slowly.  “How’s the eye?”

Shaun let go and smiled up at him.  “That was awesome!”  The kid was going to have a shiner.

“That’s going to bruise,” Norman said, worried.  “Does it hurt much?”

Shaun shook his head.  “How about you?”

“Hmm?”  Norman asked, surprised.  He suddenly remembered he’d taken quite a beating.  Slowly, his brain was deciding immediate danger was over, and there was time to turn the pain receptors back on.  It was not the most pleasant sensation in the world.  “Yeah,” Norman lied.  “It’s not bad.”

“We match,” Shaun said, pointing to Norman’s eye. 

Norman reached up to feel his own eye and flinched.  “Yeah, yeah I guess we will.” 

“Look—uh—sir.”  The guard was still pretty sure Norman really was FBI.  He’d been watching the monitors and seen Norman sweep out Blake’s feet when the fight started.  “The police will be here soon.  Is there someone you can call for the kid?”

“Yeah,” Norman answered.  _Shit._

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

 

“I wish I could have gotten off earlier,” Madison Paige sighed.  She smiled at Ethan for just a moment, then went back to watching the road.

“Hey, we’re still a few hours early.  About out of daylight, but we can all catch a movie or something,” Ethan suggested, watching the snowy buildings pass by.  “How’s the story coming?”

“It’s going well.  You wouldn’t believe the day I had,” Madison replied.  She pulled the car up outside their house and turned to her husband.  “I’ll just go ahead and say I have some wild stories to share over dinner.”

Ethan laughed and climbed out.  Together, they walked up to the front door.  “I wish I had something exciting to share, but I hardly think my latest work on the museum designs are going to make for an equally thrilling tale.”  Ethan turned the key in the lock and stepped into the house. 

“I’m sure they’re—” Madison stopped and stared.  Glass littered the floor around a demolished coffee table.  “Ethan?”  He was staring at it too.  Madison took a cautious step into the house.  “Norman, Shaun?”   Her voice echoed around the room.  No response.

“Shaun?”  Ethan was louder.  She heard a twinge of panic.  “Norman, are you here?”

Madison put a hand on his shoulder.  “We can call them—probably the table just got broken, and they went out.  Nothing else is damaged.  If there’d been a fight, wouldn’t something else be…?”  She had tried, and failed, to sound reassuring.

Ethan took out his phone and started to dial Norman.  He’d been halfway hoping he’d have missed calls, messages, something.  But there was nothing.  Ethan felt sick.  It was like everything was dissolving around him. 

“Ethan,” Madison sounded choked.  He looked up, and she was kneeling by a piece of the metal frame of the coffee table.  Ethan froze.  There was blood on it.

Suddenly, Ethan’s phone rang.  Madison and Ethan both jumped at the unexpected sound. 

“Who is it?”  Madison asked, starting to sound panicked.

Ethan looked down.  “It’s an unknown number,” he managed, staring at it in shock.  It took him a few seconds to remember to pick up.  “Hello?”  He almost tripped over himself answering it and getting the words out.  “This is Ethan Mars.”

“Hello, this is Officer James Parker,”  The voice on the other end was tense.  “I’m calling about your son.”

Ethan thought his heart had stopped beating.  Madison saw the color drain from his face.

“Oh God, Ethan, what is it?”  She asked in a whisper, afraid of the answer.

“Is he alright?”  Ethan managed to choke out.

“Yes, sir”

Ethan was able to breathe again.  His heart and head were pounding.  Adrenaline flooded his body.  Thank God, Shaun was alright.

“But he’s here at the station, and we need you to come pick him up,” the officer continued.

“Yes, of course.  I’ll be there as soon as I can!”  Ethan replied.  He noticed Madison’s worried expression, and switched the phone to speaker.  “What happened?”

“Your son is perfectly alright, Mr. Mars,” Officer Parker replied.  “It’s his guardian, Norman Jayden—the FBI Agent?”

And here came the panic again.  “What happened to Jayden?”  Ethan asked.

“He got into a violent altercation at a store downtown.”

 Ethan saw Madison mouth the word “ _What?”_

 _"_ Now,” Officer Parker continued “he’s alright.   A little banged up, but Paramedics cleared him of serious injury.  But, uh,” the Officer sounded unsure how to continue.  “I’m new here.”  The Officer sounded apologetic.  “I don’t really know why, but everyone in the department seems to really hate him.  I heard the Lieutenant that picked him up at the store didn’t even let him make his phone call at the scene—which is why I’m doing that now.  Anyway, you should get down here quickly.  He’s refusing the let the kid out of his sight, so, they’re both down here in holding and it’s turned into quite a heated argument.  I know he’s FBI, but I’m not sure how much longer that’s going to be enough.”

“We’re on our way!” Ethan said, already on his way out the door.  The Officer thanked him and hung up, and Ethan and Madison ran back to the car.

Madison jumped into the driver’s seat.  “I know the quickest route to the station,” she hurried.  “You wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve literally had to beat a patrol back to get my story.”  She gunned it and they were off like a rocket.

“Just don’t get pulled over,” Ethan said, frantically running a hand through his hair.

“I never do,” Madison replied.  She looked at Ethan for a second, then focused back on the road.  “What on earth happened!  Why did they leave—and who did he get into a fight with?”


	5. Under Arrest

Norman Jayden sat across from Carter Blake in a holding room, waiting for the Police Lieutenant in charge to return.  When they’d arrested the two of them, Norman had refused to let Shaun out of his sight.  Being an FBI agent had just barely had enough sway that he’d been able to keep Shaun with him.  The kid was sitting on a chair at the edge of the room.  Away from Blake, but within sight of Norman.  The Officers kept wanting to move him somewhere else—reassuring Norman that the kid would be fine, but Norman knew what it would be—it would be hellish.  The last time the kid had walked off with a Police Officer interested in his safety, that man had locked him in a pit and left him to slowly drown to death from the steady rainfall.  The last thing Shaun would feel safe with was being escorted away to somewhere safe by a Police Officer.  He was terrified of them.

“Well,” Norman turned towards Blake, who’d finally broken the silence.  Blake was grinning at him.  “That went well.”

Blake looked awful.  He was going to have several bruises and a black eye, and his thumb had been set but it was still purple.  His nose was broken, too.  But he looked incredibly pleased.  Norman didn’t say anything, so Blake continued.

“I mean, I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.  I gotta say,” Blake looked Norman up and down.  “It felt great.”

Norman was sure he didn’t look any better.  Blake hat gotten plenty of hits in, and someone had bandaged what was apparently a gash on his head from being slammed into the marble.

“Really going to help you get back into the field, too.  Assaulting an officer.”  Blake was smug.

“Really.”  Norman replied finally, meeting Blake’s eyes.  “Because I don’t think so.”

Blake narrowed his eyes.

“I hope it felt good,” Norman continued. “You know, I really do.  Because it better have been just the best god. damn. thing. you ever felt, ‘cause it’s gonna cost you.”

“Do you think so?”  Blake’s tone was condescending.  “Because believe it or not, I think this office is liable to side with me.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Norman replied.  “But you seem to forget, I have friends in higher places.  You might not fear the police, but you should worry about the courts.”

Blake was unfazed.  “Now, if I recall, Jayden, you hit me.”

“Did I?”  Norman asked.  “Let me see.  Now, if I’m remembering this clearly, you shoved me, touched the kid—once after being warned, called his mom a bitch to his face, and threatened us both.  You intentionally picked a fight with a celebrated FBI agent who you, to your own admission, knew was on sick leave and suffering from brain trauma.  So you attacked and threatened an injured agent with a kid.  On camera, too.  Yeah, I’m pretty sure there were a lot of phones going.  I remember, specifically, you giving an eleven-year-old a black eye, and then—on camera—trying to kill that same injured FBI agent you have a history of being overly aggressive towards and terroristically threatening, _after he had stopped fighting with you,_ and _while_ he was trying to. check. on. that. same. kid. you. just. hit.  So,” Norman looked up and met Blake’s eyes, daring him to contradict.  “And, stop me if I’m wrong.  You tore that agent away from the kid he was trying to protect—on camera—and then proceeded to slam his head into the marble floor hard enough to bust open his head and cause impressive amounts of bleeding—on camera—and then tried to choke said sympathetic parental figure to death—on camera—and only stopped when you were pulled off by security—on camera.” 

Blake didn’t look smug anymore.  He was livid, but the color had drained from his face.

“So,” Norman grinned.  Blood from a busted lip dripped across his teeth, turning the smile red.  “Tell me, exactly whose career is going to suffer because of this.”

“That won’t hold up in court,” Blake spat out.  Norman could tell he wasn’t so sure.

  “You know it will,” Norman replied, leaning back in his chair.  He was cuffed, but he hadn’t felt this free in a long time.  Norman looked up at the ceiling and smiled.  “So, I hope beating me up was worth it, Carter.  I really do.”  He turned his head towards Blake and his expression slowly became a self-satisfied smirk.  “Because I might have taken a beating, but you’re the one who lost.”

An Officer opened the door, and looked at Blake and Norman in moderate confusion.  Blake was seething and Norman looked almost peaceful.  “Shaun Mars?”  She turned to the kid.  Shaun looked up in surprise.  “Hey kiddo,” she said, trying to sound friendly.  “Can I get you to come with me?”

Norman no longer looked peaceful.  “Hang on a second—he’s staying with me until his father gets here!”

“That’s why I came to get him,” the officer replied, surprised.  “His parents are here.”

“Can you prove that?” It came out instinctively. _Oops._ The officer looked a little miffed at Norman’s request, but she swung the door open.  Past her, Norman saw Madison and Ethan across the room.  He let out a breath he’d been holding since Blake had arrived back at the store.

Shaun ran out of the room and threw himself into Ethan’s arms.  Madison joined them and it became a family hug.

“Mom! Dad!”  Shaun said, suddenly remembering.  “We have to go get Norman.”

“Easy kiddo,” Ethan said, reluctantly setting his son down.  He was so relieved he was having a good deal of trouble not crying.  “Where is he?”

Shaun pointed to the room he’d come from.

“What happened?”  Madison asked, stroking Shaun’s head.  “You’re hurt, Shaun.  Who did this?”

Shaun shook his head.   “I’m okay.  Lieutenant Blake hit me, when he was trying to kill Norman.”

“He what?”  The same fury light switch that existed in Jayden because of the man flipped on in Madison.

“Is Norman okay,” asked Ethan, alarmed.

“Yes, but his face is hurt,” replied Shaun. 

“What happened?”  Madison asked.  “Why did you all leave without saying anything—and why did they get into a fight?”

“We went to the store because we broke your table, and we were going to replace it, but then we saw Lieutenant Blake, and he was angry, and he pushed me and that made Norman mad, and then he called you a bi—” Shaun saw the look on his Mom’s face “—a word I can’t say, and then Norman punched him in the face.”  Shaun looked up at Ethan with stars in his eyes.  “It was awesome.”

Ethan looked at Madison, unsure how to respond.  “W….” He let out a breath.  He and Madison met eyes and something in the exchanged look made both of them laugh. 

“Good on him,” Madison said, standing up and taking one of Shaun’s hands.  “I never liked that man.  Hang on a second.”  Madison had set her phone to vibrate, and had ignored it on the drive over, but the incessant buzzing had finally gotten her curious.  She pulled it out and saw it positively exploding with messages.  She scanned a few, and her eyes widened.  She followed a link and held it up for Ethan to see.

“It’s already online?” Ethan was astounded.  “This happened what, maybe an hour ago?”  He was quiet for a second, watching the carnage on screen unfold.  “Good lord.”  They watched as Norman get his head slammed into the floor and come up bloody.  Ethan winced and turned the video off.  “We better go get Jayden.”

Madison distractedly took back her phone, eyes scanning messages.  “Yeah—we’d better.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Alright, you’re cleared to go.” 

Norman Jayden looked up to see an annoyed looking officer he thought was vaguely familiar. 

The man shifted impatiently.  “Come on, let’s go.  Bail’s been posted.”

Norman got up.  He could feel Blake glowering at his back.  He walked over to the officer, who un-cuffed him somewhat reluctantly, and more roughly than he needed to.  The door opened and Norman could see all three members of the Mars family waiting a little way into the main room.

Norman stepped out and self-consciously walked over, trying to read their expressions.  “Hi.”

“Hi,” replied Madison, in a tone Norman couldn’t place.

“I’m sorry,” Norman offered.

“About the coffee table?”  Madison asked, straight faced.

Norman tried to process that.  “Well, more the fight, and you getting a call that we were down at the station, and letting Shaun get a black eye.  But that too.”

“Jayden.”  It was Ethan this time.  He took a step forward and put his hand on Norman’s shoulder.  “If you ever do that again, I’ll kill you.  I nearly had a heart attack.  I thought you were both dead.” 

 _Damn it._ Norman had known it would be bad.  _Trusted with one thing and I let them—_

Suddenly Ethan pulled Norman into a hug.  Norman didn’t know how to react so he just stood there in surprise for a second. 

“Mars?”  He asked cautiously, trying to understand.

Ethan let go, but kept the hand on his shoulder.  “I’m glad you’re both safe, and seriously what the heck were you thinking!  But I heard about Blake.”  Ethan surveyed Norman’s damaged face.  “You really took a beating for us.  Again.  Thank you.  And thank you for watching out for Shaun.”

“I…”  Norman didn’t have a response prepared for this scenario.

Madison smiled at him.  “Call _me_ a bitch will he.” 

“Oh, you….He, uh.” Norman glanced at Shaun.  “He’s got quite the detail oriented memory, doesn’t he.”

“Mmmhhhm,” replied Madison, still smiling.

“How do you feel?”  Ethan asked, all concern.  “You look terrible.”

“Thanks, I feel terrible,” Norman said, smiling in spite of himself.

“We should head home.  You two need some rest,” Ethan said, taking Shaun’s hand.

“Sure, honey,” Madison replied, suddenly distracted.  “Just give me a second.”

Madison smiled at her husband and disappeared into the room where Blake and the officer who’d been keeping an eye on him and Norman were still stationed.  Norman looked at Ethan, who gave a shrug of the “I’ll let her explain” rather than the “I don’t know” variety. 

“Just couldn’t quite keep your head down could you, Blake,” Madison said, entering the room. 

Blake looked up.  Perfect.  Exactly what he needed today.  “Well if it isn’t Lois Lane herself.  Come to get a fair and unbiased story.”

“Oh no,” Madison replied, leaning on the table across from Blake.  “News is never unbiased, Blake.”  She stood back up and folded her arms.  “You played yourself, getting into a fight.”  He started to reply, but she cut him off.  “It’s all over the internet.”  Madison held up her phone screen and flipped through nearly identical accounts of the event on a myriad of sites.  “And what do you know, it looks like everyone is inclined to side with the younger, smaller, more attractive guy, trying to protect a kid.  They’ve even got you starting it, on video.”  Madison pocketed the phone.  “I’ve already gotten nine calls from six different attorneys, suddenly _very_ interested in the claims I filed against you.  I guess it’s not as over as you thought.  See you at the hearing.”

“That fucking stuck up prick started it, and I’ll prove it!”  Blake called after her.  “This department is behind me, and that’s all that matters.”

Madison paused in the doorway and looked over her shoulder.  “I think we both know that isn’t true.  Public opinion carries, Blake.  Funny, isn’t it?  This should have been what happened when you broke the law and beat up my husband in custody, but instead it’s what you get for intentionally picking a petty revenge spat with Jayden.”

Blake stood up in anger.  “You fucking,”

“I know,” Madison replied, heading out the door.  “Karma’s a bitch, and so am I.”

She left Blake behind and went to rejoin her family.  Norman watched her in moderate confusion.  Ethan looked proud.

“What was—” Norman started.

“Don’t worry about,” Madison replied, putting her hands on Ethan and Norman’s shoulders and directing them towards the door.  “Let’s go home.”

“Yeah,” Norman said.  With the unexpected events of the night over, his mind quickly wandered back to the subject he’d been trying to avoid.  His hand absently bumped the phone in his pocket.  “But then there’s something I oughtta tell you.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 ----------------------------------------------------

 

 

“So, this is goodbye, then?”  Madison asked.

It was Tuesday morning, and Norman Jayden was leaving.  Funny, it had only been two months since he’d first arrived at their house.  It felt like so much longer.

Jayden had very little to take with him.  Everything he had brought with him fit into a small carrying case.  To Norman, it felt incredibly lite. Like it was empty.

Norman was dressed in the same outfit he’d worn two months ago when he first arrived, minus the sunglasses, which were folded in a pocked of the suit jacket.  His face was still bruised and cut up from his altercation with Carter Blake, but it was starting to heal.  In spite of this, his right eye was swollen, and the cuts on his lip and forehead still looked painful and fresh. 

Norman stood in the foyer by the front door, and placed his bus ticket in his pocket.  One way.  Straight to New York.

Madison, Ethan, and Shaun were seeing him off.  The cab he’d called was already outside, so this was goodbye.

Goodbye. 

Funny word.  So many different meanings went with it.

“Yes,” Norman replied simply to Madison’s question.  “I guess it is.”

“Won’t you come back?” Asked Shaun quietly.

“Yeah,” Norman said, looking down at the kid, unusually quiet today.  “Sometime.  When I can.”

He wasn’t so sure.  Something about leaving felt so final.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to come back, but.  These two months had been so different from anything he’d experienced in a long, long time.  Something like a normal life.  And you just didn’t have one of those in the FBI—at least he didn’t.  Not with what he did.  It was just work.  It was like another field of existence.  And on top of that, he wasn’t so sure about—

A sound that didn’t really exist crackled through his mind as wind that wasn’t there moved his hair, bitingly cold.

ARI.  He thought—he really had thought, these past two months, that he was getting better.  But all at once it was back.  The headaches, the frequent, very invasive hallucinations.  The inability to control it, to stop it, to tell what was real.  Maybe better wasn’t something that existed.  Maybe he would go to New York, to the lab, and fail those tests.  And then he’d go back to that apartment, alone.  Because he couldn’t come back here, not after that.  He hadn’t ever wanted them—anyone—to know what he had going on in his head.  The first time had been bad enough.  For them to know he’d failed—that he was never getting better?  He didn’t want this memory, these two months, to be changed by that.  He wanted to leave it like it was, and have it to look back on.

Norman couldn’t really put it into words, but he knew if that happened he wouldn’t come back.  Either he wouldn’t want to, or he wouldn’t get to, or he just wouldn’t be able to do it.  Somehow, he was certain.

So…So this probably was goodbye.

“I’m glad you decided to stay,” Ethan said, extending his hand.  Mars was a good man.  He’d known it back when he’d worked the Origami case.  These two months, it had been nice to see just how right he’d been.  Funny, the first time they’d really talked, he’d been trying to break Ethan—a presumed killer—out of the police station, on instinct alone.  How things had changed.

“Me too,” Norman said, shaking the hand. 

Madison put her arm around his shoulder.  “Write, or call?” She asked.  Norman nodded.  He wouldn’t.

It started to rain.  Not in reality.  In reality, the sun was still shinning on the snowy December morning, but what Norman saw was a quiet October storm, slowly building in intensity around him.  He tried to shut it out.

“Our timing is awful,” Madison said, smiling a little sadly.  “But since you won’t be here for Christmas, we thought we’d go ahead and give this to you.”  Madison handed him a small box.  Norman took it and looked down.  It fit easily into the palm of his hand.  “Thank you.”  He put the box in his pocket.  “I better go, if I don’t want to miss the bus.”

“Right,” said Ethan, looking down at Shaun, who had grabbed his hand.  Shaun waved at Norman unhappily as he started down the steps.

Door’s always open.”  Ethan had called after him as he climbed into the cab.  “Whenever you come back.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Norman kept the box in his pocket the whole ride back to New York.

He took his old keys out and opened the door to the all too familiar apartment, some two hours later than he’d expected to arrive in the city.  It was quiet—it was always quiet there.  Not in a peaceful way.  It was a vacant sort of quiet.  A fine layer of dust had gathered on the table tops, but other than that, not a thing was different than the version of the room that lived in his memory.  Supposedly familiar was usually nice.

Norman sat down on the bed.  He checked his phone.  A message from one of the doctors he was scheduled to meet with tomorrow let him know where to head once he reached the facility.  Norman closed the phone and laid back on the bed, looking up at the old ceiling.  He couldn’t see it well, in the dim light, but his memory filled in the shadowy gaps.

He hadn’t remembered to pick up any food, and almost everything he’d left in the apartment was spoiled, so Norman ended up sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed, hungry and with nothing to do.  He didn’t feel like going out.  His head had ached the whole ride up, and it wasn’t getting any better.  He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the bed.

Finally, Norman took the box out of his pocket and turned it over.  It was bright red, with white snowflakes on the paper.  Entirely out of place in the grey-brown room, even in this dim light.  Slowly, Norman undid the ribbon holding it shut and opened the box.  He looked at the object in side in silence for a minute.

Finally, he broke the silence in the room.  “A house key?” he asked out loud.  His voice was quiet and as exhausted as he was.

Norman picked up the key and turned it over in his fingers, slowly.  Finally, he closed his fingers around it and shut his eyes.

It was dark, and quiet in that room, and Norman was tired, but he didn’t sleep that night.


	6. Epilogue:  Case Closed

Norman Jayden took a deep breath, finger on the trigger, back against a wall.  He heard shouting coming from the room across the hall.  In one fluid movement, he moved around the wall, vaulted over an overturned bookcase, and was out in the hall.  He kicked open the door, gun drawn.

He saw two of the men across the room from him.  The informant was on the ground, but he was still alive.  Norman didn’t see the third man until he slammed into him, knocking the gun flying and sending them both crashing into a desk.

Norman kicked the hulking man off him and grabbed a broken desk leg, using it like a bat, trying to keep momentum, and the bigger man unsteady.  On the fourth swing, the leg broke.  Norman barely dodged what would have been an incapacitating blow to the face, and went for his gun.  One of the other two men saw him go for it and raced him for it.  At the last second, Norman could see he was going to lose, so he changed targets and rammed into the man instead of jumping for the gun.  He slammed the man against a pillar, knocking him out.

A gun went off; the bullet whizzed past Norman.  He dove behind a pillar and tried to assess the situation, breathing hard.  The informant was still on the ground.  The man standing above him had a gun, and the bigger man was headed towards Norman’s hiding place, knife in hand.  His gun was close, but if he went for it, he’d get shot.

A familiar crackle.  This again.  Distorted objects began to fill the room.  And those tiny damn tanks, crawling towards him, across the floor.  Norman took a breath and closed his eyes.  His fingers instinctively went to the key that always hung from a chain around his neck. 

Key, knife, instep, elbow, wrist.  Shield, gun, knife, cover. 

The steps flashed through his mind fast.  In a second, the bigger man would be between him and the man with the gun.  Norman took the key from around his neck and made his left hand into a fist, holding the key in place between his fingers.  He heard the man get close, and Norman was up.  The key and fist connected with the man’s nose, breaking it and gashing it open.  The man reeled, and tried to simultaneously bring the knife down on Norman.  Norman caught the wrist holding the knife and rammed his foot down on the man’s instep, almost simultaneously elbowing him between the ribs, knocking the air out of him.  When the man recoiled, Norman used his other arm as leverage and snapped the wrist holding the knife.  As he expected, seeing his partner lose their weapon, the man with the gun fired.  Norman moved before the gun went off, keeping the bigger man between them.  The bullets entered the bigger man, dropping him to the floor.  Norman fell with his bodyshield.  The second he was on the floor, his foot shot out, sending his own gun, which was lying just beyond them, skidding across the room towards the shooter.  The shooter looked down as the gun bounced off his shoe.  Norman was back up, and threw the knife at the shooter, catching him in the shoulder.  Norman made it cover again before the shooter could draw on him.  The shooter moved towards Norman angrily.  He knew that his opponent was out of weapons.  Norman got ready to grapple, just in case his plan didn’t work, and braced himself.

“Don’t move” Norman knew the voice—it was the informant.

Apparently, the shooter didn’t comply, because three shots rang out and Norman heard the shooter drop.

Norman let out a breath and moved out from his hiding place, picking up the shooter’s gun.  Like he’d hoped, as soon as the shooter had moved away from their informant, to chase him, the informant had gone after Norman’s gun.  Three against one had become one against two. 

Norman walked over to the informant, and gently took back his gun.  The man had taken quite a beating.  “Sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” Norman said, putting his hand on the man’s shoulder.  “Police and paramedics are already on the way.”

“How did you know where we were?” asked the man, still in mild shock.  He blinked, trying to clear his head.

“It’s my job,” Norman replied.  “Can you walk?” 

The man nodded. He shakily took a step and nearly collapsed.

“Here,” Norman offered.  He helped the man up, and half carried, half supported the man as they headed together towards the stairs out.

“Thank you,” the man offered weakly, trying to stay conscious.  “I didn’t think anyone would come.”

“The FBI promised to protect you,” Norman replied.  “We try to keep our word.”

“Then, thank you for doing your job.”  The informant’s leg gave out, and Norman caught him.

“Well, my job mostly seems to consist of me getting my ass kicked.  You took care of that last one yourself.  But, you’re welcome.”  Norman shifted, transitioning the bulk of the man’s weight to his shoulder, almost entirely carrying him now.  “You wanna thank me, then just try to hang on.  We’re almost out.”

Cars were pulling up outside when the two men exited the building.  Norman watched as paramedics safely got their informant into an ambulance, and officers went up to arrest the surviving assailants.  Off to one side, apart from the action, Norman took his phone out of his pocket and checked his messages.  Two from work, and an update—a picture.  They’d gotten Shaun a dog.  Named it Pirate.  It was hard to tell from the picture if Shaun or “Pirate” was more pleased with this arrangement.

Norman closed his phone and absently took the key back out of his pocket and used his sleeve to wipe the blood off it.  He turned it over in his hands a few times, smiling at the worn thing, then carefully hung it back around his neck. 


End file.
